Silver Bells
by Sigrid Sigbjornsdotter
Summary: A theory of why Legolas is soo serious in the books, but soo playful and childish in fanfiction!


Silver Bells

"I have to ask", said Elladan, riding at Aragorns left side. "It's disturbing me. Has been disturbing me all day."

"What it is, _mellon-nin_?" Aragorn asked, smiling up at his older foster-brother.

Elrohir rode at his other side, as if they wanted to protect him – now, when there seemed to be nothing less in the world you would need protection for.

Or perhaps, Aragorn reminded himself, they just wanted to prevent Arwen to occupy him for the rest of this day too. They had barely left each other's sides for days.

This day, one of many on their long journey from Minas Tirith to Rivendell, was the most beautiful day; was one of those days which are so beautiful it hurts.

The road meandered between floating grass and flowers swarmed with humming bees. The wind whispered in the threes. Butterflies flew in the air like petals come to life. Yes, it was one of those days which leave you stunned from the moment you open your eyes at the morning, to the moment you close them again by the camp-fire at night.

But it was also the first day since the battle outside the Black Gates Aragorn could relax.

There had been so much to do, all the time – he had to care for the wounded, he had to hold speeches, he had to greet noble men, and he simply had to be king, which was a very severe task indeed. He had decided to leave his duties to be able to follow Éomer to Rohan and then the fellowship all the way to Rivendell. They would split up there, and he could not imagine they would ever again be all together, and therefore he could not miss the chance of saying goodbye.

But the thought of leaving so much undone gave him no peace.

It was not until today, so close to Rivendell, he could relax. This was perhaps not longer his home, but it would always be his _second_ home, a place far from royal duties, a place far from concern.

And now he turned to Elladan, a little brittle that he was not _allowed_ to relax now when he could, but convinced that Elladan would not trouble him without reason.

"What's disturbing you?"

Elladan sighed and leaned closer to Aragorn.

"Legolas", he said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the Mirkwood prince was far behind. "I do not recognize him. He is so – grave. And quiet!"

"I have thought of it too", Elrohir remarked.

Elladan straightened up. "I mean", he said, "it´s no strange he´s solemn when there´s war and not _after_ the war either, with all the dead and wounded and all the killing making marks in your mind…"

"He´s always been sensitive to that", said Elrohir. "He´s got a big heart."

Elladan nodded.

"But what´s disturbing me – or us, obviously", Elrohir continued, "is that it doesn´t – well, it doesn´t cease. The War is over, Minis Tirith is being rebuilt, all the wounded has been cared by you, Aragorn; yes, everything is fine – but he is still not laughing as he uses to."

"And", Elladan filled in, "if I am not wrong, he has been like that, grave and quiet, ever since we first came to Rohan. Maybe there wasn´t much to laugh at in the Path of the Dead, but afterwards there has been plenty of times when we have laughed and he hasn´t. That is not like him. It is really not like him."

Aragorn looked at them, his brothers.

"I have thought of it", he admitted. "Now and then, I have thought of it. Whenever there has been time to think of anything else than war and dangers, I have thought of it. In Lothlorien, in Rohan, and when we first met I Rivendell, at the council." He sighed. The latest days his mind had been occupied with others things than his friends. Facing the truth, he had to admit that it always seemed occupied with something – something that _of course_ was much more important than such trivial things as friends.

"I should have asked", he said guiltily. "I know I should have asked."

And he remembered all those times when the fellowship had sat around the camp-fire in the evenings, keeping their fears back by telling stories and jokes. Had they not been laughing out loud even in the depths of Moria?

But Legolas – surely he had smiled, but had he laughed?

"Estel", Elrohir said, interrupting his thoughts with his soft voice. "Now you are blaming yourself again."

"Not without reason."

"You always blame yourself."

"Not without reason."

"You think everything is your responsibility!"

"Not without reason."

"You think I am the greatest person in the world."

"Not without – Elrohir!"

They laughed with him, his brothers, and it was a laughter he had missed even though he should not have had to miss it – because Legolas should have laughed instead of them, and his laughter would be as soft to his ears as was theirs.

"Really, Estel", said Elladan, turning serious again, "you should talk to him, as fast as there is time – in Rivendell, I suppose, there will be time."

"Why shall I always talk to him?"

"Because you know our young friend better than us", Elladan replied.

Aragorn had to laugh. Legolas might be younger than the twins, but he was not young in Aragorns eyes – except, he had to admit, sometimes when he was arguing with his father, banging doors and screaming like an elfling.

And when he was practicing childish jokes on his poor friends.

"I will talk to him", Aragorn said, suddenly missing those jokes very much.

* * *

Legolas and Gimli were rearmost, watching the others backs.

They had already passed the way to Mirkwood and the Lonely Mountain, and the thought of their homes made them both quiet. Once they were home, how long till they met again? None of their parents would appreciate their friendship. And how had their people suffered during the War?

Suddenly, Legolas turned around to face Gimli. His eyes were dark, as if they had seen many things they wished to forget, but there was something new in them to. Already when they left Gondor Gimli had noticed this – a change in his friend's mood.

Something sparkling.

"It is over now, isn´t it?" the elf said. "The war."

Gimli met his eyes, his blue eyes filled with grief. "Yes, my friend. It is over."

"All of it? The killing, the suffering? It´s hard to believe."

"Perhaps not all of the suffering", Gimli replied. "But all is going to be better. It´s going better every moment."

Legolas turned around again, looking forward. "I know it, but my heart doesn´t know. Silly, isn´t it? Sometimes I feel like I am covered in blood as at a battle field."

Gimli let go of his firm grip around the elf´s waist – trying to suppress the fact that he was sitting high above ground on an unsteady, scampering horse – and put his hand gently on Legolas arm.

"But you´re not, lad", he said softly. "You´re not."

"I can´t forget the faces of those I have killed", Legolas went on, his voice not much more than a whisper. "Nor of those I have seen dead or wounded. And I think of all suffering this war has caused, not only the suffering we have seen, but also in other countries, and others towns – and in my homeland, and in yours…"

"Legolas", Gimli tried to interrupt him.

"Aragorn", the elf continued, "he knows that he has to kill to survive, for he has been forced to that so many times; and his heart knows it too and accepts it. He goes on, he leaves the thought of killing at the blood and goes on. But I am not like him. I have lived longer than him, I have been forced in hundreds of such occasions, but I never seem to get used to it. I can´t leave those thoughts behind. I dream of it. I see it as fast as I close my mind. I think of it any time I have got nothing else to think of."

"Legolas…"

"I´m not like you either, Gimli, I know you can as well… Ever since Mirkwood was attacked by orcs – that day when Gollum fled, the reason I came to Rivendell – I have felt as if – as if there is nothing in the world worth laughing at. As if everything that is god and beautiful has a dark stain of it. And all that has happened afterwards hasn´t really made it feel better, has it? And – "

"Legolas!" Gimli cut off. "Blast it, I´ve never seen you this grave before, and I saw you when you learned that there was no wine in Edoras, only ale!"

Legolas sighed without noticing the tease. He did not answer.

"You know, lad", Gimli leaned lightly to his back and felt the elf's heartbeats, "you´re not weak. You´re not. Your problem is that you´ve got such a big heart."

Legolas was silent, but Gimli knew he was listening.

"You want everything and everyone to be happy, and that is fine", he said, "but when they are not happy, you suffer with them. You take them to your heart, you carry for them. All of them. But _you_ cannot carry _their_ misery. You cannot take the responsibility for them. Your heart may take them, but it cannot bear them."

He could feel the elf´s heart beat harder and faster.

"You can care for them", he said, "without suffer yourself." He patted Legolas arm gently and laughed a little. "If you would tried to carry all the misery in the world on those slim elf shoulders, they would break by the weight."

Legolas said nothing, and Gimli had already uttered more emotional words than he could remember saying in a full year, so they were quiet. He could feel the elf´s heart slowing down, and then, suddenly, he straightened up – shaking his head as if shaking of a heavy burden. Then he turned to Gimli.

"Do you mean", he said, "that a dwarf´s shoulders had been better fit to bear it?"

There it was again. The sparkle.

* * *

"Look!" Elladan exclaimed happily. "The Old Oak! We´re near Rivendell!"

Elrohir gave a sigh of relief. "At last! It´s such a long way to Gondor… Estel, why on Arda would you be king so far away from home?"

Aragorn snorted. "As if I had a choice." Looking at his brother, he added: "And won´t you go to the Havens soon, with your father? Then it doesn´t matter how far from Rivendell I live."

"Oh Estel, you idiot! Did you think we´d leave before you´re – before you´ve passed on?"

He said it as if it was grieving him – however, it didn´t affect Aragorn. Death was far, far away for him, however near it was to an elf.

"Soon we´re in Rivendell", Elladan said for the second time, sounding very eager to change subject. "It´ll be nice with some rest; that wrecked city is so crowded it makes be tired to think of it."

"Yes, there will be plenty of peace in Rivendell", Aragorn agreed. "And, I hope, there will be time to talk to-"

"Hush, he´s coming!"

Legolas caught them up with a smile on his lips. His eyes were twinkling. Like they use to, Aragorn thought.

"You know", the elf said merrily, "what´s funny? This must be the most dangerous journey – quest – whatever you call it – we´ve ever been on; and the only one that ends with none of us injured!"

They laughed at this. Gimli looked very confused, but Aragorn had no time to explain anything for him, because Legolas spoke again.

"It´s less than a mile left to Rivendell", he said.

His eyes didn´t just twinkle. There we´re shining.

"First to the yard!"

Aragorn and the twins stared at him. During this brief moment, before they understood there was a competition to win, Legolas spurred his horse and dashed away. Gimli yelled as they disappeared.

And in the next moment, Aragorn and Elladan and Elrohir followed.

When Aragorn entered the yard, Legolas was already there with a shocked Gimli behind. He turned to Aragorn, his cheeks flushed, his hair had come off its braid, and he was smiling in that playful, mischievous, light-hearted way in which only he could smile.

And as his eyes met Aragorn, he opened his mouth and his laughter rang like silver bells as it had not done in many years in Aragorns ears.

* * *

This is my first fanfic, so please review! Reviews on language is much appreciated since english is not my native language

Thanks for reading!


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